With his gold cursive initials boldly hung over red curtains in the nouveau-posh party salon of London s Le Meridien Grosvenor House Hotel, Julien Macdonald let loose an unabashed display of fashion excess at its best, or worst, depending on one s point of view.
There s absolutely nothing subtle about Macdonald s rich-bitch aesthetic: Picture an avalanche of massive furs, leopard-printed, sexed-up vamp dresses with S&M caps, dominatrix-inspired leather suits, sky-high diamond heels and sequined blazers that would make Ivana Trump look positively frumpy. As if to drive his point home, Macdonald also showed lavishly embroidered matador suits and a series of barely-there lingerie gowns that could ve been plucked from a racier version of the Victoria s Secret catalog.
Did it work? Absolutely. Macdonald s clothes are clearly not for everyone (Pamela Anderson and Miss Venezuela come to mind as potential customers), but the over-the-top performance was a jolt of pure fun.
